


Alone

by DelilahBlueEyes



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Rumbelle - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-14 11:04:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2189301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelilahBlueEyes/pseuds/DelilahBlueEyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>accio-firewhiskey prompted: she thinks about him when she's alone</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alone

**Author's Note:**

> I very sincerely apologize for inundating the Rumbelle sections with my random odds and ends of fic. I'm transferring all my work from Tumblr to my AO3 account to keep it safe and organized and I hope it isn't too annoying.

She thinks about him when she’s alone. During the long hours when he is at his shop and she’s alone in the library. She thinks about how his smile is beautifully crooked and his face is always scratchy when he kisses her (he can’t seem to do it enough now) but she wouldn’t complain for all the stubble burns in the world. She crawls into her too large, lonely bed in her apartment above the library and misses him. His fingers across her skin, his lips above her pulse in the quiet hours of night before it went bad. She misses him. Sometimes she touches herself while she thinks about him inside her. She laughs the first time she manages to make herself cum just thinking of the little smirk on his face the last time he kissed her breathless.

She vows to invite him upstairs with her soon. She’d read in a book somewhere that inviting someone in for coffee was a sure way to communicate an interest in sex. She knows he would bite too. He would follow her up the stairs, leaning on his cane too heavily and he would watch her undress in her small bedroom and he would let her draw him close and have him. She has other fantasies. Fantasies in which he grows possessive and clutches her too close and fucks her like he’s dying. He’d never hurt her but he would roll her beneath him and thrust deep and whisper deliciously filthy things against her ear as she cried out to him.

She knows of things now that she never dreamed of as a simple merchant knight’s daughter gone to work for a sorcerer. Secrets of adulthood that she’d not had the benefit of. Leather and lace and friction and a sweet burn. A gift Lacey has left for her in return for replacing her for a short time. She finds herself bored sometimes now, wanting to go for a drink or play pool in a short skirt or just scream. She hates Lacey for that. For making her anything less than perfectly content with her life, her books and her love and her happiness. She knows it’s reflected in her now, in her wilder hair and in the way she doesn’t wear tights much anymore that aren’t sheer and the way his eyes shutter for an instant when she smiles that less than cherubic smile. She is happy, she is. She has her true love and he has his son (uncomfortable as that still is for them both) and she is happy. She thinks about him when she’s alone, and it all makes sense again.


End file.
